Invidious
by crazyharrysfireworks1239
Summary: Why do I despise you SO, Minerva?" Umbridge POV, post-Career Advice. It's a trip through time, through insanity, and through the exploration of Umbridge's mind.
1. Default Chapter

Invidious

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Summary: "Why do I despise you SO, Minerva?" Umbridge POV, post-Career Advice. It's a trip through time, through insanity, and through the exploration of Umbridge's mind.

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Author's Notes: The prattling of a lethargic mind. I totally made this up. You ever notice how some people, in order to avoid blaming themselves, blame others for their misfortune? This is kind of a musing on that and how those same people will go to any lengths to preserve their illusions. It's rather dark; full of jealous rage. Have fun.

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Category: Drama/Angst/Romance (insinuated)

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Rating: PG-13

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Reviewing: Yes, please…just to let me know if you're actually reading this rubbish.

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Disclaimer: You know the drill. Place your head between your knees and kiss your butt good-bye.

Prologue:

Why do I despise you SO, Minerva? Why do I absolutely LOATHE you? Because you are Minerva McGonagall, that's why! I am sitting here, glowering at the fifth-year Gryffindors; yes, YOUR precious Gryffindors, Minerva. Your obvious favorite, Potter -whom you so generously promised to assist in becoming an Auror; something I still find deplorable- and his smarmy sidekicks Granger and Weasley are staring at their _Defensive_ _Magical_ _Theory_ textbooks. Finnigan and Longbottom are not even pretending to read; Thomas is dozing, Patil and Brown are passing notes. Do I even care? No. Because, frankly, I do not give a damn about any of them. No, all I can think about is YOU. You, and how YOU ruined my life. At night, when I am alone -ALONE- in my quarters…I think about you. I think about why I hate you so. Those lonely nights…when I am truly honest with myself…I know exactly what it is about you that angers me so.


	2. Chapter One

Hogwarts, 1939. I was a third-year Slytherin. Thirteen is a terrible age, Minerva, did you know that? Oh, but certainly you would not; you have never experienced hardships, have you? You would not understand the turmoil it is to be an inexperienced adolescent, especially one who was just beginning puberty.

No, Minerva, I bet you were born with those "luscious curves", as some of my classmates were apt to describe you. You enjoyed it, didn't you? The attention you received from everyone. You just LOVED to flounce around the school as though you were Headmaster. It was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts, something which I was grateful for. Prefect, Head Girl, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team…you made me sick. Everyone loved you. People wanted either to be you or to do you. Except for me, of course.

You couldn't even do me the teensiest favor of having bad breath. You MIGHT have been tolerable if you had had some flaw, some tiny thing that would have made you seem more human… But no, Minerva, you had to be perfect in every way: friendly, helpful, a model student. God, you should have been a bloody Hufflepuff. But the Sorting Hat was completely enamored of you too, and placed you in "noble" Gryffindor. And here, I sigh, Minerva. Perhaps that is where it began…with Gryffindor and Slytherin's legendary argument. Perhaps we were fated to be enemies from the very beginning.

But oh, you would not have liked that word, would you? Enemies… Absolutely not, Minerva; you were everybody's friend! You always had time to talk to someone, always had time to help someone with his or her homework, always were there when someone needed you. Did you even bloody sleep at night, Minerva? Or did you just sleep with Headmaster Dippet to get your good grades? And your prefect status?

Perfect prefect Minerva…how you must have so enjoyed patrolling the halls. You must be sick, Minerva, if catching naughty students was your idea of a good time. I, personally, hate it. Other than your own precious Gryffindors, of course. Here I must smile. I remember when I banned Potter and those despicable Weasley boys from the Quidditch team… Wasn't that fun? Oh, how I loved the look upon your face, Minerva; that got me through the rest of the week quite nicely. Any time I needed to get over that last little…well…that's beside the point…some regard it as a sport…

Sports. Or more specifically, Quidditch. You love Quidditch, don't you? Dear me, Gryffindors are so simple: give them a book and a broomstick and they are content. You certainly were content; the youngest Quidditch captain in seventy-five years, starting it during your fourth year. Imagine that! Most Captains didn't reach that status until sixth or seventh year, fifth at the earliest, if they were incredibly good. I have to give that to you as well, Minerva. You WERE good. Probably still are. Best Beater Hogwarts had seen in centuries, some students and even some staff members liked to say. Gryffindor did not lose a single game the entire time you were on the team, did they? Everyone would turn up for your awe-inspiring matches; you would fly by on your broom, dark hair rising behind you, looking like bloody Victory incarnate.

My personal favorite match, the only one I ever truly enjoyed watching, was during your sixth year. I am sure you know the one I mean, Minerva. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. It was the match for the House Cup. Our House did not have a chance in hell and we knew it, unless by some chance our Seeker swallowed the Snitch as soon as the starting whistle was blown. But that wouldn't happen with your sharp eyes prowling about, would it? So…like all good Slytherins, we retaliated the best way we knew how: by playing dirty. Oh, how I laughed with my year-mates in the stands as you and your teammates were fouled over and over again.

Do you remember, though, the pinnacle of the match? You were sweeping about, trying to protect your Chasers and Seeker from injury; not that it mattered, your team was so far ahead that even if Slytherin DID catch the Snitch, we still would have lost. Nonetheless, you were, for the first time ever, probably, not paying attention. Slytherin's own Beaters took their chance; they swung both Bludgers at you when you had turned to stare down the field, which crashed into your back and knocked you off your broom.

Everyone gasped and screamed in horror, even my fellow Slytherins, who, although they wanted to win, did not want you seriously hurt. As I said, everyone loved you; everyone except me…I began to laugh happily as you slipped off your broom. My prayers were finally about to be answered! I clapped my hands silently and leaned forward hungrily. I watched, wide-eyed, my mouth slack, hoping, hoping…


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Notes: **I hope everyone is enjoying this. I've enjoyed writing this chapter. Disclaimer still applies; I don't own them, I'm a destitute college student.

You were hurtling towards the ground, accelerating faster and faster; the whole debacle took place over maybe five seconds, but that was all you needed, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

Damn you, Minerva! You just had to have your wand with you! Even being hit in the back with two blunt objects couldn't stop you! You whipped your wand out, gave it a wave, and floated serenely to the ground, as easily as though you fell from hundred-foot-high precipices daily. Damn you!

The entire school began to cheer and chant your name, even as you doubled over in pain from the attack of the Bludgers, clutching your back. We should have aimed for your head; maybe then you would have died and all of my grief could be assuaged. But alas, no. The referee blew his whistle and thus, Gryffindor got SIX free shots at the goal stands, and of course they scored on every single one. You, being obstinate, insisted you were fine and continued playing, and surprise, surprise: Gryffindor won the match and the Cup. Your team landed on the Quidditch pitch, all of you beaming happily, when suddenly, to my great pleasure, you began to cough up blood.

Oh Minerva, I was so thrilled! I watched with immense satisfaction as you placed your hand to your mouth, brought it back, and the look of alarm registered in your eyes, in your team's eyes. Slytherin had reigned supreme, even if we had lost the match, 40-370. You accepted the Cup from Headmaster Dippet, but quickly passed it on to the Seeker on your team so you could try to push your way through the swell of the crowds. I could see the look of pain on your face as you held your back. I knew then, that I would forever remember this match; not because of the horrendous defeat, but because of your injury.


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Notes: Many thanks to Elayne Sedai, Angeldust-aka-Evilwoman, ginger newts, and LinZe for reviewing! You guys are some of my favorite writers on here so having your kind words was way awesome! I also took Elayne's advice and made this chapter a longer one...Thanks again! I'm new at this kind of thing so I'm totally open to criticism. :)**

_I knew then, that I would forever remember this match; not because of the horrendous defeat, but because of your injury. _

I knew that you would probably spend the rest of weekend, if not the next WEEK, in the Hospital Wing with bruised kidneys or something. Although the school was sure to be talking about precious Minerva, about how she was so talented to have stopped herself from falling, even with such a dreadful injury, your wound itself sustained me. Life was going to be sweet! But you had to taint that memory, too, didn't you? Damn it, you just had to ruin everything for me, didn't you? For as I was watching, ecstatic, as you paused to grasp your lower back and cough up more blood, HE made his way across the field. Albus Dumbledore…how I hate him, almost as much as I hate you.

He was running towards you, as fast as he could, looking so pitifully worried. I remember how he slipped an arm around you, oh-so-gently, and ushered you away from the crowds; I was standing nearby and I could hear him muttering to you, trying to reassure you, as he helped you to the Hospital Wing, you still holding your lower back. His precious protégé, injured while playing her second-favorite sport. I say second-favorite, Minerva, because I knew what your first-favorite is…and it involves Albus Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher; he was so handsome, wasn't he? So brilliant, Hogwarts was so lucky to have him teaching, yada yada yada. I didn't care about all his wondrous exploits; the whole dragon's blood thing and Grindelwald, and all that nonsense. All I cared about was…him. He was so dashing, with that long reddish hair. He was greying at the temples, but that didn't bother me. I knew that I could make him happy…oh my, yes.

Albus Dumbledore had that romantic look of poets; his robes, though always immaculate, were easily imagined rumpled…along with the bed sheets. God how I wanted him…at the tender, idealistic, naïve age of thirteen, I wanted him so badly. I knew intuitively, somehow, that he would be a fantastic lover, caring and giving. My first real fantasy… But you had to crush that dream into the ground too, didn't you? I never even had a chance in hell with him, all because of you.

I was not blind, even if the rest of the school pretended to be. I could see the way he absolutely gazed at you, and the way you gazed back. You were happy now, weren't you, Minerva? Oh yes, you had the greatest wizard of modern times ensnared under your nefarious little claws. He fell for you, Minerva, just like you must have planned. You didn't want me to have any shred of happiness at all, did you?

No, you didn't. For although I was not exceptionally good at school, I wasn't bad, either. I particularly looked forward to Transfiguration…and the chance to see him. To see him without you tagging along, for the two of you were always together, weren't you? Named for the wrong damn Roman goddess, I would say; Minerva is supposed to be chaste! It was abhorrent!

Anyway, my first two years at Hogwarts, I was reasonably happy, at least during Transfiguration. I could sit in the classroom and gaze at Dumbledore…even if I knew in the back of my mind what was going on between the two of you. One time last year you even had the audacity to burst into his classroom, to BREAK the sanctum of my one happy time, throwing the door open like a maniac. You stood there, glowing -you won't even sweat like a normal human! - And informed Dumbledore breathily, as though you had just run a mile, that the Headmaster needed to see Dumbledore immediately.

I just bet. Judging at how quickly Dumbledore left and by your shallow panting, I bet it wasn't Dippet who needed to see him, you harlot. Dumbledore told us to study our notes and then he left. Again, Minerva McGonagall, you ruined my happiness! But no matter; I would see Dumbledore again on Friday…and on the following Tuesday…and the following Friday, and so on. I would see him without you, would be carried away on the cadence of his voice, its every lilt and deep rumble.

However, second-year would be the last year that I would know happiness, even during Transfiguration. _All because of YOU!_ Minerva McGonagall, the brightest witch of our time, possibly since Rowena Ravenclaw herself; you were an absolute shoo-in for Head Girl. Of course you received that distinction. Not that I particularly cared about that…but no, because of your "pronounced aptitude" in all subjects, but ESPECIALLY in Transfiguration…Dumbledore just HAD to proposition Headmaster Dippet with an idea. He could use you as a teaching assistant! Yes, that would be wonderful, wouldn't it? Smashing idea, Dumbledore! I bet you came up with it, Minerva…now he had an ironclad excuse for spending most of the day with you! Damn you!

And so began my third-year, Minerva…so began my slow, tortuous purgatory. First day of classes, my fellow Slytherins and I filed into the classroom; I was so excited, for I had not seen Dumbledore (Albus in my mind), for two long months. Imagine my shock when I saw you standing there beside Dumbledore's desk, smiling nervously but looking so painfully, agonizingly beautiful. Our school robes were supposed to be loose and flowing but they fit tightly around YOUR curves, Minerva; did you charm them so that they would? I remember sitting down, eyeing you maliciously. Your smooth complexion was such a contrast to my own pockmarked face; you stood, poised and elegant, watching attentively through bright eyes as the rest of my class entered the room. _What were you DOING here?_

You turned and murmured something to Albus, so softly…He responded with a smile and a soft whisper of his own, his eyes twinkling at you. How I LONGED for him to look at me that way. How I LONGED for your figure, Minerva; your tall, willowy body and your glossy tresses. At thirteen, I already weighed 189 pounds and my hair was greasier than spaghetti left out overnight. Perhaps if I looked like you then he would look at me too…

But I could not kid myself…you were (and still are) amazingly talented, much to my chagrin, which, knowing him, was probably what attracted him to you. There was not and is not a damn thing I could do about that, either. I can recall how, when the bell rang to signal the start of classes, how Dumbledore stood up from behind his desk with his hands stretched out. I remember how he welcomed us all back and told us he hoped we had had good summers. And then…then he dropped the bombshell upon us.

"I am pleased to announce," Albus was saying. "That Minerva McGonagall will be assisting me with teaching this year because of her natural propensity toward Transfiguration!" he told us all, beaming at you. My jaw dropped as I stared, unseeing, at the man I loved more than I loved myself. I could not believe it. Thus, I looked at you as if I expected you to tell me the truth. You at least had the good graces to blush and look down modestly as Dumbledore spoke. But it was a flush of pleasure, wasn't it? You were smiling the entire time he complimented you. You fluttered your big eyes and looked back up at all of us, grinning.

Horror beyond horror…my worst nightmare truly was coming true! Not only was my time with the love of my life being wrenched away from me, but I had to spend that time with YOU as well. You, with the shiny prefect badge and the new silver Head Girl badge pinned smartly to your robes. I wanted to vomit. I quite possibly would have, except Dumbledore handed you a box of mice for you to pass out to everyone.

You began to hand a mouse to everyone. The girl next to me squealed but you assured her that they would not hurt her. _No, but you would, Minerva_, I wanted to warn my year-mate.

"Are you going to play Quidditch again this year?" a boy from my house asked you eagerly.

"If I can fit it in my schedule," you replied with a grin. The group of boys clustered in the corner all laughed and moaned. I also grimaced, but only at your fake humility.

"Aren't you going to let us win at least ONE match?" another boy lamented, although he smiled as he said it.

"If you guys work at it, you might be able to!" you said in an encouraging tone that I just knew was phony, Minerva. I saw right through your lies.

"But now we have to work on our Transfiguration," you added as you finished passing out all the mice.

Smart, Minerva, very smart; you did not want to be thrown out of Albus' bed now, did you?

The man in question was sitting behind his desk, watching you raptly, his eyes following your every move. I tried not to think about it. The class passed quicker than I would have thought, with you instructing us and him overseeing, adding comments when needed.

Finally, finally, the bell rung. I took my time in packing my bag although I wanted to get as far away from you as possible. One of my year-mates, a girl, asked how my summer was. I snarled at her that it was fine. She looked affronted and said that she would see me in Charms. I nodded absently, trying to hear what you and Dumbledore were discussing.

"You have a real knack for teaching, Minerva," Dumbledore was saying.

Damn it, he calls you by your first name?

"Oh, do you really think so, Albus? Thank you!" you replied, smiling widely.

You called him by his first name too, Minerva? Oh, this truly was disgusting. How dare you take the man that I love?

"And if you like," Dumbledore was now saying. "We can continue your Animagus training this evening…I know how eager you are to carry on with it!"

I did not even bother to hear what you were saying. Animagus training? Were you really that good? Of course you were, I don't even know what I'm asking myself. I stuffed my parchment mercilessly into my bag, punching it.

"Miss Umbridge, is there something we can help you with?" Dumbledore's voice suddenly carried towards me.

I looked up in shock at having my thoughts interrupted. Both he and you were smiling at me; his was kind, and yours, although appearing kind, was not, I know.

"No, Professor, I was just leaving," I stammered out, staring at him. Curse my child-like voice! I moved towards the door.

"Well, you best hurry or you'll be late to class!" you told me, still smiling that appalling fake smile as I passed by you.

You towered over me, at least a foot taller. I glared up at you.

"I will be fine," I muttered as I vacated the classroom. However, your horrid voice carried.

"Oh, she's a nice one, isn't she?" you said.

Now you were making fun of me! Oh Minerva, if you only knew how nice. I vowed then and there to find a way to get revenge on you, to get back at you for taking my only happiness at school. I did not know how long it would take, but I knew that you would get your comeuppance.


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